


Gym Class Heroes

by Anthropologicality



Category: Psych
Genre: Gen, little Shawn and Gus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 22:50:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anthropologicality/pseuds/Anthropologicality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adventures of Shawn and Gus in sophomore gym class, involving Olympic badminton, messages from aliens, and wacky hijinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gym Class Heroes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [psychoinatardis](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=psychoinatardis).



> This is based almost entirely off of my experiences in gym class with my friend Nicole, with her being Shawn and me Gus. Most of Shawn’s lines are actual things she’s said. So this is dedicated to her, for gym class, for biology, and for getting me into Psych in the first place. (It was also supposed to be published on her birthday…in February. Sorry.)

_Leland Bosseigh High School, Santa Barbara, California, Gym_

 _Sophomore Year 1992, First Semester_

"Where did that come from?"

"It's part of a candy wrapper. It didn't fall from the sky."

"It might've."

Fifteen-year-old Shawn Spencer and Burton Guster stared at the offending object that had just appeared mysteriously on the gym floor between them only moments before while they stretched.

"I bet the aliens dropped it here as a message only to us," Shawn offered.

Gus looked at him like he was crazy. "It's a tiny corner of a candy wrapper, Shawn."

"There could be a murderer in there, you know."

Gus fixed him with a look saying he was not amused. "How is that even possible?"

Shawn held his thumb and index finger about half an inch apart. "It could be a teeny-tiny little murderer."

"You're ridiculous."

"Your face is ridiculous."

At that moment the gym teachers called everyone back, and everyone dispersed; the sophomores went to the badminton half of the gym, and the freshmen went to the ping-pong side.

"Okay, Gus," Shawn said, taking a racket and a birdie, "remember what we talked about."

"What, that crazy thing you said earlier?"

"For the next half-hour, we are Olympic badminton players. Yes." Gus resisted the urge to roll his eyes and Shawn continued, "Of course, badminton isn't an Olympic sport, but—"

"Yes it is," Gus cut him off.

Shawn paused in twirling his racket and looked at his friend. "Since when?"

"Since this year. Didn't you watch the Olympics?"

"Only the good sports."

"Shawn and Gus," Mr. Bailey called out loudly, "against Jimmy and Ronnie." Cursing their luck in drawing the bully and his henchman as opponents, the boys obediently panned out over to their assigned court, taking the sides they always did—Gus on the right, Shawn on the left, because Gus always insisted he couldn't serve from the left.

They volleyed for first serve and won, so Shawn celebratorily tossed the birdie over to Gus when it landed in front of him. Gus excelled at serving but was only okay at the rest of the game; Shawn was great at the rest of the game, but couldn't serve at all. They made a perfect team that way, they figured.

The shuttlecock flew back and forth, forcing them to go farther back nearly with each pass, and almost hitting the ceiling every time. The boys avoided that like the plague, however, because hitting the ceiling meant ten push-ups. (Ronnie did, twice.)

Ten minutes later or so Mr. Bailey blew his whistle shrilly, signaling the match's end. Two matches later, the whistle blew for the final time and the students gathered in the center of the gym floor for their next activity, the post-game workout, which today was an exercise video on the TV that was brand-new that year after Shawn had accidentally broken the old one the year before. The host, Nina Pasterelli, was well-known in the Leland Bosseigh gym, since the teachers loved to play her videos no matter how the kids hated her—and to make it worse, it was the same two videos over and over again, both of which were at least ten years old.

As the videos played, Shawn—who had long since memorized every word and movement within the video—began mimicking the woman, turning to Gus and repeating everything she said and doing the movements exaggeratedly.

"Now, Gus," he said in a high falsetto voice during which Nina Pasterelli took a pause, "two more hip thrusts, that's it, now you've got it! Remember, you are a strong, confident woman."

Gus, who had previously been attempting to ignore his friend's antics, whipped around at that. "Shawn, cut it out. I'm trying to do this and you're making it extremely difficult."

Shawn only grinned in response, but he did stop, until the end when he exclaimed, "Great job, ladies!" loud enough for everyone in the gym to hear.

The class was dismissed and everyone dispersed into the locker rooms. "That was some great badminton playing out there today, Gus!"

"What are you talking about? We sucked."

"That's not what I want to hear from an Olympic badmintonter!" Finished changing, Gus slung his backpack over both shoulders, biology textbook in one arm, and walked out with Shawn following close behind.


End file.
